


Wild Winds

by Taraxippi



Category: Ghost - Mystery Skulls (Music Video), Mystery Skulls (Band)
Genre: Gen, Greek Myth!AU, Icarus!Arthur, Lewis!Theseus, Multi, STEAMPUNK GREEK MYTH!AU, Vivi!Atlanta, i fucking love greek myth, steampunk!AU, you want to fight about you punks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2762516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taraxippi/pseuds/Taraxippi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Icarus is flying too close to the sun<br/>& Icarus' life has only just begun<br/>& this is how it feels to take a fall<br/>Icarus is flying towards an early grave</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (oblivion)

**Author's Note:**

> i should be working on young and tragic bUT HERE I AM.   
> i love greek myths though so godb

i. (oblivion)

 

“when oblivion is calling your name,

you always take it further than i ever can”

 

He’s filled with hope.

 

He can feel it in the root of his stomach as his feet hover on the windowsill. He can smell the sea-salt and taste it on his tongue. He runs his tongue over his teeth, hands grasping the window sill.

 

He has to do it. He will do it.

 

He thinks of how many others have died in a place with no windows, stuck in a cobblestone tower with only a oaken table piled with blueprints and scrap metal. He had been stuck in here for too long, suffered underneath an iron fist.

 

He steadies the contraption on his back, made from scraps and cut metal he hid from underneath his bed. But now, now he’s ready.

 

He lunges into the open air and he’s not sure what he expected, but he didn't expect to fall. His stomach falls into his mouth, his heart beating between his teeth. Then the wings start to move, start to catch the air and he steadies.

 

He gives a harsh hoot, one mixed with excitement and fear and then he lets eyes focus less on the ocean and more on the sky, the open endless sky that stretches before him. He doesn't even bother to look to the smoky city behind him and the tower that scarred the sky. No, he’s got his eyes on the horizon and the sun that beams down on his skin - a sun that he hasn't felt in days. Months.

 

Years.

 

He kicks his heels, still trying to maneuver the machine he built - his hands ache to touch the sun, hold it. He holds his left hand to the sun, the shadow crossing over his face.

 

The arrow rips through it an heartbeat, so fast he can’t register it until another pierces his side, jamming the machine on his back. It's by the time his heart beats for the third time that he recognizes the arrow lodged between his fingers, splitting his hand in half. He screams, ear-splitting as another lunges into the back of his heel, skimming his skin and landing into the water. It doesn't take much for him to start his descent back into earth, hands still grasping for the sun, still hoping to hold it in his arms.

 

The last sight he sees before the sea salt burns his throat is the dying sun through murky blue.

 

 

* * *

 

Arthur awoke, breathless. The first thing he did was to reach for his left hand, clasping cold metal and nearly slipping underneath his sweaty palms. He lied back down on a lump of hay. The city of Crete, although tiny itself, it was a land that thrived on ivory towers and large clock towers. A city made of iron that ran on smoke and steam. An island half filled with his own inventions and he had yet to walk through the city streets.

 

He blinked once, twice, breathing in through his nostrils before exhaling shakily. The fall of that he remembered, that played behind his eyelids every time he dared to close them, still haunted him. Still shook him to his core.

 

“No point in lying around.” He muttered, groaning as he got to his feet - his new iron arm a little heavy on his shoulder. He doesn't have to walk very far to get to his workbench, his room separated by an invisible wall. One room, twenty paces from left to right, north to south. The floors are worn from his constant circling. Metal and wood, luxuries that he once had, now taken because of a reckless act that included plunging into the ocean. 

 

Arthur sat down, smoothing down a blue-print with chalk notes and paused once to look out through his only window, now smothered by iron bars that crisscrossed - blocking his view of the horizon.

  
This was his life. It was all he would ever know. He had his fall to blame for it. 


	2. (flaws)

(flaws)

 

“there’s a hole in my soul

i can’t fill it i can’t fill it”

 

Arthur’s days were filled with routine. He had two meals a day - once in the morning, another in the evening. He bided his time by building contraptions, stretching the ideas before him. Earlier in his years, they were extravagant - ideas that he had which were filled with wire, copper rods, he smelled metal and smoke in his dreams and he was content in helping to build a city that ran on steam and golden gears.

 

Now his ideas were simpler, made from soft iron and simple designs. They praised him, Arthur the new-age Prometheus. Perhaps the invention of his lifetime was the clockwork prosthetic that was connect to his shoulder, which ticked softly like a clock - lined with bright copper and gears that helped to move his fingers properly. Of course, it required constant maintenance and every now and then it would pinch his nerves - requiring that he continue to take it off, adjust and try to put it back on.  

 

Arthur really only had two companions. His constant companion was a tiny rodent, one he had affixed with tiny wheels that were connected to it’s back legs. A tiny little thing he had nicknamed Galahad. Of course, although he welcomed and treasured the company - Arthur hungered for the conversations that only came with real people.

 

Something rattled the iron bars on his window and he shivered, getting up from his chair in a heart-beat and nearly losing his footing in the process.

 

When he got to the window he chuckled. “Speak of the devil..”

 

“Shut up.” came the muffled reply as a hand snaked into the window and grasped the iron bars. A wild face accented by violet tinted glasses hiding blue eyes.

 

He’s immensely happy to see her but he shakes his head. “You are going to get into serious trouble.” He hisses, concern masked by his anger.

 

Nonetheless, she hangs outside the window, the glasses nearly slipping off her nose and Arthur reaches through the iron bars and pushes them back.

 

“Thanks. Also, you should be thankful that I take time out of my busy day to visit you.”

 

“You? Busy? Come back to me when you are making this city run on it’s own.” He snorts, although his haughty expression quickly disappears when she nearly falls from his grasp once more.

 

“You are going to get in so much trouble.” He whispers, trying to peer out the window but the iron bars obstruct his view and he huffs.

 

“Please. What can they do to me? I slaughtered the Calydonian Boar.” She brags, wiggling her nose furiously before Arthur realized she wanted her glasses pushed up the bridge of her nose and he complied.

 

“Anyway, I wanted to tell you. Apparently there’s a new warrior in Crete.” With this she wiggled her eyebrows extensively and Arthur laughed.

 

“Oh?”

 

He didn’t really care for the glory of heroes. As a child, he could tolerate them - finding his likeness in the sidekicks of heroes. Those that stayed behind, that sang the stories then live them. Of course, that irked him as a child but not that he’s older - he is content with living life on the sidelines, even more so when Vivi explains in great detail of her own adventures.

 

“Yeah, I’m going to challenge him to a footrace.”

 

He laughed at her exuberance and paused as she swore underneath her breath.

 

“Sorry to cut our meeting short but I’m going to get in trouble. I’ll try to see you later tonight.” She ended the sentence with a wink before letting go of his arms and sliding down the tower, where he could see the jutting stones that she used as props.

 

He waved her goodbye, and not even seconds later - he missed her.

  
Arthur found himself sliding into the chair at his desk, empty blueprints spread out before him and he sighed, picking up the chalk and started to draw. 


End file.
